The word fuck was blunt but it also sent a shaft of need through her. Her heart was racing, driving her blood at a fast pace through her. It seemed to accentuate each of her senses.
“Then why did you enter negotiations with my father, if you have such a low opinion of English ladies?”
Her rapid breathing pulled his scent into her head. She was instantly distracted from her purpose by rising lust again. She wanted to find out what all that muscle felt like, smooth her hands over it. She could not stop the impulses and tried to thrust away from him. His arm shot around her waist the second her palms slammed against his hard chest, and with a hard jerk, she ran into his body, her fingers clenching at his shirt.
“We are ill matched—” She gasped behind Brodick’s hand as it slapped over her mouth.
“Dinnae say it! I’ll be taking ye to my bed and no other place.” He lowered his voice as his arms tightened, holding her prisoner when she squirmed. “Tell me true, Mary,” he said, removing his hand, “have ye been with another? Let us begin our marriage with honesty.”
“You’ve already made up your mind about me. Nothing I say will make any difference.”
“It will. I can trust. But it disnae come for free. Ye have to be honest with me first.”
His hand moved up her back until he threaded it through her hair. His grasp tightened and she was forced to stare into his eyes. Suspicion stared back at her and hunger so fierce it stunned her. Her words melted away as she forgot what she was fighting with him about. His attention dropped to her mouth and her lips tingled, anticipating his kiss.
It never came. With a growl, he released her. His shoulders shook as he stepped back.
“I’ll nae be distracted. Ye’ll answer me before yer kisses drive thought from my mind.”
Her body shook with the loss of his support. A dull ache ran through every inch of her flesh. Clasping her arms around herself, she tried to remove the feeling of his hands by rubbing her arms.
“You doubt me. That will never change. Even after my innocence is proven you will continue to doubt my word.” She shivered. “This is why I ask you to send me back to my father.”
“And I have told ye that I willnae do so.” He spat his words at her, pointing that finger toward her once more. “Have ye known another man?”
“No, and that won’t be changing tonight.” She had no way to enforce her words but they flew out of her mouth born from the flames of her temper. How she wished she were enduring her woman’s flow. Her eyes widened.
Her monthly flow…
“Since you doubt my innocence, it is only prudent to wait until my monthly curse happens before consummating this marriage. Only by doing that will you never doubt the parentage of any babe I may conceive.”
His expression darkened but she didn’t wait for him to demand compliance from her again.
“Yes. That is the way to end this quarrel.” Taking a deep breath into her lungs, she curtsied, dismissing him with the gesture. “Good night, my lord.”
She turned her back on him, the hairs on her nape rising as she did so. Her shoulders were tense as she began walking away, expecting to feel his hands on her at any moment. She made it the length of the hallway without any interference. Disappointment slammed into her, making her aware of how much she enjoyed his touch. Tears clouded her vision as she climbed the stairs and she wasn’t even sure why she was sniffling.
She had gained what she wanted. There was no reason for her to despair. Her monthly curse would not come for another fortnight at least. It was a much better plan than asking for an inspection.
So why did she not feel relief?
Chapter Seven
Helen was cross with her.
The maid hid it well but Anne knew from personal experience what the tight set of her lips meant. How many times had she done the same while tending to Philipa?
The maid was holding back the words that she wanted to lecture Anne with. She performed her duties efficiently but without the friendly banter she’d added this afternoon. There was little to do after Anne’s dress was removed and hung up. Helen returned with a silver brush. Anne heard her pull in a stiff breath as she drew it through Anne’s hair.
“The lord will adore yer hair.”
The brush slid along the waist-length strands. Anne rarely let it hang loose. That was something girls did and she’d passed such a stage when it came time to begin earning her keep in the kitchen. Tight braids were far more practical. Warwickshire servants wore linen caps, too. The required head covering kept flour out of her hair. Pinning her braids up kept the ends from frizzing when she leaned over to poke up the fire.